how do i anger management?
by shucky motherfucky
Summary: WRESTLING FANDOM. /Randy knows how Punk is, but even so, he still invites him to his party. He later figures out that it is a horrible horrible idea, since he can't stand people who talk alot. Oh but if only he would listen to what Punk wants to tell him../ A silly cracky Rnady Orton/CM Punk story. REUPLOADED because i have no clue it was taken down but here it is again!


**TITLE:** 'How Do I Anger Management?' or 'A Fucking Suit.'  
**AUTHOR:** Pepper  
**RATING:** M maybe? I dunno. There is sooo much swearing it's amazing.  
**PAIRING:** Randy Orton & CM Punk  
**WARNINGS:** Swearing, texting, Randall rage, etc.  
**P.O.V:** Randy Orton's pov.  
**DATE WRITTEN:** March 2nd 2012; Fixed up and extended March 3rd 2012  
**SUMMARY:** Randy throws a party to celebrate something, Punk thinks it would be fun to fuck it up, but all he wants is to talk.  
**ALTERNATE SUMMARY:** 'I punch the wall beside his head and all he does is grin. But I guess being a crazy annoying fuck prevents you from caring about whether you live or not.'  
**AUTHOR NOTES:** HI. This was* my first published WWE story and it's kinda cracky, yet not because come on, everyone has seen a rampaging, murderous Randy Orton and thought of funny situations to put him in. And this is in 2012, but I had Punkers grow his hair out cuz we all know he rocked the fuck out of that look while he had it. Expect me to use this randomly placed long haired Punk very often. This is half in/half out of Kayfabe universe, by the way. Please review and stuff and constructive criticize me and blablalbahahlkvblagolk. Bla. ALSO, I dunno how to spell Randall correctly, but it looks better with two L's :Y sorry. Oh and lines are timeskips.

*REUPLOADED SINCE FFdotNET FOUND IT FIT TO TAKE IT DOWN FOR NO REASON.

* * *

"Randallll~ I'm heeere~ And I brought Pepsi for those of you that are sane." Punk called, looking ridiculously... _unfitting_. His messy, almost shoulder length black hair framing a stupidly grinning face-he's just doing that to annoy me, the bitch-and a suit. _A fucking suit_. Ridiculous Phil Brooks came to my party in a _fucking suit_. The obnoxious annoying fuck probably stole it or something. Urgh.

Anyway. He drifted over to me, yeah, _drifted_, and grinned ear to ear as he placed the box of Pepsi onto the table I was leaning against. He bent in to me and almost laughed. I hate you.  
"Hey Randall." He greeted me with that bitch of a lilt in his voice that just screamed hell for me for the rest of the night. I realized I was utterly fucked when I looked down at Punk's face and saw how green his eyes were.

_Shitfuck._

* * *

"YO RANDALL!" Punk shouted from across the room, and I tensed, my hand squeezing around the glass and almost crushing it. I ignored him, and I could just feel him pouting. I had to deal with his shit so often, like throughout 2011, and in 2008, and I could feel every facial expression if directed at me by now. It was annoying and invasive. Much like the man-_oh fuck_-who was walking over to me.  
"Randall!"

"Shut the_ fuck_ up with that _Randall_ shit!" I shouted, exasperated and frustrated with this whole thing.  
"Well someone's mad."  
"Of fucking course I am." I growled, and he just shrugged with his hands up in a "_see told ya_" kind of way. I rolled my eyes. "What did you want damnit?"

I finished with a sigh before Punk wrinkled his nose, still retaining the smile.  
"Not gonna talk to you if you're gonna be unruly." He laughed out, sauntering away with a wave and I ran my palm over my face in distress, taking a gulp of the alcohol I forgot I had. I found comfort in picturing myself tearing his head off.

* * *

He was really really getting on my nerves now, the incessant calls for me, the constant looks. I'm actually surpised I haven't killed him yet. But wow oh boy was I fucking close.  
"Rdll.." What?  
"Rndall.." Oh god.

"Randaaaall." Oh je- oh fuck.  
"RANDYDANDYRANDALLLL." Punk was shouting, and some of the people around him laughed and looked in my direction. Oh hell fucking no.  
HELL.  
FUCKING.

NO. THAT IS IT.  
I bolted up from my seat and the crowds parted like the fucking red sea as I barrelled towards Punk, but he just stood there with an oddly unreadable smile on his face. I closed the distance between us with a smash of my fist against the wall, my knuckles twinging in pain as they threatened to split. Punk's olive eyes darkened and widened, then he relaxed, looking up at my extra inches with an air of superiority. No fuck you Punk, you cunt. _I'm_ in charge.  
"Now Randall, we don't hit walls when we get angry."

He scolded me, olive eyes glinting dangerously, which I had no idea could happen when you were backed up against a wall. I guess when you're a crazy, stupid bastard, you tend not to care whether you live or get your fucking head twisted off.  
"I'm hitting the fucking wall so I don't hit you, asshole." I ground out, teeth hurting from being pressed together so tightly.  
"Awww you _do_ care." He cooed, and I moved my other hand to grab his collar and shove him hard against the wall. He made a surprised noise, which was easily heard through the glass clinking and shoe shuffling awkward silence that had fallen among the partygoers.

Oh fuck I forgot. The party. Shit.  
"Stop breathing my air Orton." He ordered, and I backed off to let him free, and let the party go on again. God damnit.

* * *

The party was going wonderfully. Things were quiet on Punk's end, and that was great. So fucking great. My head was finally starting to calm down, and I was still tending to my injury when my phone beeped. I grabbed my phone from my back pocket and saw the notification for a new text. I clicked on it and.. Oh jesus.

**Punk:** Hey  
What do you want?

_Beep.  
_**Punk: **Dont be mad  
Don't be mad? _Don't be mad_? Stupid.  
i wont just fucking tell me what you want

_Beep.  
_**Punk:** So rough. You see me right?  
No. I looked around until I saw him.  
Yeah

_Beep.  
_**Punk:** Come over here.  
Why?

_Beep.  
_**Punk:** Keep asking questions and i'll start yelling again.  
Fuck you. Fine.

* * *

You just came in mid conversation. It was mostly comic book and I don't even know babble, so you didn't miss anything crucial. Punk and I were standing face to face in this corner of the area where no one was going really. Odd.

"Why did you even come here anyway?" I sighed, my voice quiet to keep the people around us at bay. It worked too. Thank god for that. And it seemed at this point that Punk was right. Words are better than actions in alot of situations, don't let the others lie to you. He loved doing things in reverse. But it did feel good to just talk, instead of running up his blood pressure until he was spinning mad high on rage.

_Think with your head and lips and not your fists and teeth, Randall. _I rubbed the back of my neck as I waited a short short while for it to happen. You know.. It.  
_'To rile you up.'_  
_'You're so funny when you're mad, Randall.'_  
_'I was bored.'_

_'Hahaha~'  
'I was hungry and decided to come he-  
_"I wanted to see you." He near whispered, eyes flicking up to meet mine in an almost..fuck.. In an almost _endearing_ way. I found myself scowling at the thought. Wait what?

Want..wanted to what?  
"Wanted to see me?" I repeated, not believing a bit of this shit. He was setting me up for sure.  
"Yeah.. I was bored and wanted to see you about something but you just got angry with me whenever I would try and get your attention.." He fake pouted, blinking up at me.  
"You are so annoying."

I groaned, rolling my eyes.  
"You still let me stay. You ejected a few people from the party, and not me."  
"Fuck off, they were raging drunks and they were starting shit." I justified, feeling heat rise up to my face. Punk scoffed.  
"And you weren't?" He challenged, brow raised and lips curled.

I bristled by instinct.  
"That was you, you cu-" I paused and took a deep breath, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Punk looking rather pleased. "...Don't start this shit up again, Brooks."  
"Sorry Randy. It's just.." He laughed out at first, but stopped, the smile on his face deflating a little. "I'm gonna go.."

He whispered, eyes hard. I furrowed my brows, blind for a moment in confusion, but then I felt him come too close and I tensed. I expected a knee to the gut, a chop to the back of my neck, a kick to the hip.. But instead, he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth quickly, then he moved to the side and walked past me to go out the door with what was left of the Pepsi he had brought. I decided I wouldn't stop him. We'd just cause a ruckus again. Instead, I turned to watch him, and as he closed the door..

He grinned at me.

* * *

OH PUNKERS YOU SLUT.

sorry it's so bad urgh but i just wanted to get it out there and - (channels my inner cm punk)- I liked it, so I hope you guys liked it too. It was fun writing this story, you know, cuz writing is so fun anyway. I originally wrote it to accompany a random seven panel comic of Punk coming to a party uninvited, annoying randy, being shoved into a wall and laughing at a pepsi covered randy orton. It was funneh stehff. I wrote it on my phone and used up tons of messages and saved them in drafts, and yeah. I lost my train of thought, i'm all sick urhghagkdsg. God I hope this story doesn't suck. Oh, my angry randy muse, and one of the lines (so sorry, but it was too funny) was inspired by the Randy Orton from the fanfic _**Christmas For The Romantically Challenged**_, which I avoided for months because of how stupid the summary made it sound, but then on the last day of February, I caved and read it and adored it. I laughed so hard at certain parts, and man I love that story and you all need to check it out if you haven't already. _Nooo we don't choke steering wheels.._


End file.
